


Dean - 14

by phantisma



Series: Ages [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-10-16
Updated: 2006-10-16
Packaged: 2017-11-13 08:05:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/501287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phantisma/pseuds/phantisma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Dean is 14, he exorcises a demon, discovers girls and plays in the snow.  Not as much angst here as previous or future, this is a soft interlude...the better to hurt them later, you know?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dean - 14

Dean was six days into fourteen when he went home with Cassie Darrens after school to work on a science project, and he felt that prickly feeling on the back of his neck while he waited in her living room for her. He looked around the room, trying to place what was wrong.

He wandered from the couch to the fireplace, then over to the windows. Something just wasn’t right. Cassie came back from the kitchen with hot cocoa and cookies and he tried to put it out of his mind. It wasn’t as if he could just ask her if her house was haunted.

It took a while, but the feeling faded and after two cups of cocoa and two hours of going over the project, Dean packed up his books and looked up at Cassie. She was on the couch, while he’d slipped to the floor. “You going to be okay until your father gets home?”

Something like fear flew across her face. “Do you have to go?”

“If you want me to stay, I can. I’d just have to call home.”

She nodded, reaching for his hand, and then pulling it away. Dean knew fear when he saw it, so he went for the phone and called home. “Hey Janet, Dean. I’m going to be later than I said. No, we’re done for tonight, but Cassie’s father isn’t home yet, so I’m going to hang out here until he gets home. Thanks. Yeah, okay. I’ll call before I leave.”

He hung up and turned back to her, holding out his arms. “I’m all yours.”

There was clear relief on her face, but Dean didn’t push. “So what should we do while we wait?”

She held up her math book. “I have a ton of math to do.”

Dean made a face. “Yeah, me too. You’re in the honors class, right?”

“Yeah, my dad pushes me pretty hard. Especially since…” her voice trailed off and her eyes tracked to a picture on the mantle.

“Your mother?” Dean asked gently.

“Yeah. She was brilliant. Dad…he misses her a lot, and he wants me to be like her.” She dropped her eyes to her math book and sighed.

“I lost my mother too.” Dean said after a while. “I was four.”

“What about your father?” Her face looked startled, as if she hadn’t meant to ask the question. “I’m sorry. I mean, I know you’re…you and your brother are…”

Dean smiled, though it did make him uncomfortable. “You can say it, Cassie. We’re in foster care. The Caplin’s aren’t our parents.”

“I just…I mean, everyone knows, but no one says anything.”

Dean waved a hand. “Its not exactly a neighborhood where it’s a common thing, right? Not what I was expecting, I’ll tell you. But…it’s better…than the alternative.”

“So…your father?”

Dean frowned and shrugged. “He’s a good guy…just not really in a position to be raising kids.” He was really beginning to understand that, the more immersed he was in normal. Cassie took his hand, stroking a thumb along his wrist in a comforting gesture. Dean’s heart sped up and he was fairly certain the flush that ran through his body showed on his face.

“It must be hard.”

There it was again, the feeling that _something_ was in the room with them. He looked over his shoulder, half expecting something to be there.

“You feel it too?” Cassie asked softly.

Dean nodded slowly, his eyes wide as he turned to her. “Does it happen often?”

She let go of his hand. “When my father isn’t here. Sometimes…” She shook her head.

“What? Sometimes what?”

“You won’t believe me. My father thinks I’m crazy. He’s got me seeing a therapist.”

“Tell me. I promise not to think you’re crazy.” It was Dean’s turn to take her hand to comfort her.

“Sometimes I swear there’s someone watching me, I can see him…a reflection off the glass, but when I look its gone.”

Dean turned his head as he heard something move. “Only in the glass, only reflections?”

She nodded, her eyes dark as she looked where his eyes had moved. “Mirrors, the windows…the television.”

“What does it look like?” Dean let go of her hand and went to stand by the windows to the back yard.

She followed him. “Dark, with a hood. Long nose and chin. Ugly.”

Dean nodded, though the characteristics weren’t ringing any bells. “Has anyone ever died in this house?”

She shrugged. “Not that I know of. The last owner was this weird old guy. He had the living room painted black, and with weird symbols on the floor.”

Dean turned to look at her. “What kind of symbols?”

She shrugged. “Could you draw them?”

“Maybe. Why?”

Dean shook his head. “I think I can get my hands on a book with some symbols and stuff in them. Would you recognize them if you saw them again?”

“Yeah, probably. Why?”

Dean turned to her, holding her shoulders. “You aren’t crazy, Cassie. I’m going to help you. It’s going to take some time, but I think we can get rid of it.”

“It?” She looked at him like he was the one who was crazy.

“Yeah, it.” A car turned into the driveway, headlights washing across the room. “In the meantime, try not to be alone in the house if you can help it. Does it only happen in here?”

She nodded. “Yeah.”

“How long have you noticed it?”

“Since a few weeks after we moved in, but it’s getting worse.”

He nodded and walked around the room. “Are these the only doors into the house?” he asked, pointing to the front door and the French doors into the back yard.

“Yeah, why?” She looked like he might grow a second head at any moment.

“Just covering the basics?”

“What kind of basics?”

Dean turned to look at her and grinned. “If I told you, you’d tell me I was crazy.”

“Okay.” They turned in unison as the door opened. “Daddy, this is Dean Winchester, we’re working on a science project together.”

“Oh, hello Dean.”

“Mr. Darrens.”

“I brought home dinner.” Mr. Darrens held up a bucket of take-out chicken and Cassie rolled her eyes. “You’re welcome to stay, Dean.”

“Thank you, but no, sir. Janet said she’d save me some dinner, and I have more homework, so I really should be getting home.” He reached for his coat and shrugged it on before hefting his back pack.

“It’s really getting cold out there, you want me to give you a ride?”

Dean’s eyes flashed to Cassie’s and he shook his head. “No, thanks. I’m only a few blocks away and I wouldn’t want your dinner getting cold. I’ll just call and let them know I’m on my way.”

Cassie disappeared into the kitchen with the chicken while Dean called Janet, but she returned before he slipped out the door to press a peck of a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you.”

Dean flushed with warmth, despite the cold air blowing around him as he stepped out into the start of a snow fall. His feet crunched in the snow and the wind was biting, but his face burned. He’d never been kissed before…not by a anyone who wasn’t related, and never as a thank you…and never when he’d been wishing so hard for it. He was becoming keenly aware of the things that made him feel this way, that made him think about kissing and touching. Cassie Darrens was one of those things.

He made the cold walk as quick as he could in sneakers on ice and snow, and was greeted at the door by Janet with a mug of tea that she pressed into his hands as soon as he got his backpack set down on the floor. She helped him get his coat off and hustled him into the kitchen, pulling a plate out of the oven and setting it at his place at the table.

She sat at the table with him while he ate. “I take it Mr. Darrens got home okay?”

Dean nodded around the hand he had shoving food into his mouth. “He was a little later than expected, cause of the snow and stuff.”

“And how is Cassie?”

Dean shrugged. “Okay I guess. She’s better with this science stuff than me. I’m lucky I got teamed up with her. This is good.”

Janet smiled. “Thank you. Did you finish your homework?”

“Nah, I still got my math and an essay for English.”

“Sam’s not feeling too good, so you should probably work on it down here.”

Dean stopped eating and looked up. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing to worry about, Dean. Just a little stomach bug or something.”

“Does he have a fever?” Dean was nearly out of his chair before her hand on his arm stopped him.

“No, no fever. He came home with an upset stomach, had trouble with dinner and got sick afterward. He said he felt better, but I had him lay down anyway. He’s probably asleep now.”

Dean settled back to his chair and resumed eating. “Okay. There’s been some stomach thing at school too.”

“Yeah, that’s what Carol said.” She stood up and went to fuss with dishes.

Suddenly Dean realized he hadn’t seen Jenny or George, and it was nearly 7. “Is something wrong?”

“No, why?”

“George isn’t here.”

“He’s late.” Her voice was clipped, a touch of anger in it. He wasn’t used to hearing anger in her voice.

“Okay.” George had been late a lot lately, and he’d heard them arguing late at night when they though he was sleeping. He finished off his plate and brought it to her at the sink. “I just…you seem…quiet.”

She smiled for him and took his plate. “Do I? I’m just tired. It’s been a long day.”

Dean nodded. He knew she wasn’t being honest, but decided not to push it. “Okay. I’m going to get my books.”

“Oh, Dean. You got mail today. It’s on the hall table.”

Dean grabbed his backpack and stopped in the hall to look through the pile of mail. A card, addressed to him sat among the stack of envelopes. He ripped it open after checking for a return address. There were only so many people who would send him something, and top of that list was his father. It was a pretty generic birthday card, with “Sorry it’s late” scribbled across the inside. It wasn’t signed, but Dean knew the hand writing.

He sat down in the chair at the table, dropping the card to pull books out of his bag. “Your father?” Janet asked and Dean only nodded. “That’s nice.”

“Yeah. Would have been nicer to get it a week ago. Or to know where he is.”

Janet took a deep breath and touched his shoulder. “At least he sent you one. At least you know he’s still alive.”

Dean looked up at her, curious at the tone in her voice, but she just shook it off and squeezed his shoulder. “I’ll let you get to work. I need to check on Jenny and make sure she finishes her reading.”

 

Two hours later, Dean trudged upstairs, turning off lights as he went. George still wasn’t home, so he’d checked all the doors, and stopped to check on Jenny at the top of the stairs. Like Sam when he was little, Jenny had a fear of the dark, and she slept with a soft light on under a purple cover, which cast the whole room in a lavender glow. Jenny slept curled up on her left side, one foot extending out from the blankets.

With a smile, Dean moved into the room, tucking the foot in and adjusting the blankets up over Jenny’s shoulders. He wasn’t sure when he’d come to think of her as his sister, but he had developed a soft spot in his heart for her, and next to Sam she was the most important thing in his life.

His next stop was across the hall to Janet’s room. Her light was on and the door slightly ajar, but he knocked anyway. “Janet?”

“Come in Dean.”

“Hey, I finished my homework and locked up downstairs.”

She was sitting on the bed reading and looked up at him with a surprised smile. “Thank you. George called, and he’s staying in town. The roads are getting really bad.”

Dean nodded and shifted a little on his feet. “Well, you know where to find me if you need anything. I’m going to turn in.”

His intention had less to do with getting any sleep than it did with figuring out what was haunting Cassie’s place, but he wasn’t going to tell Janet that. He slipped into the room he shared with Sam, checking his brother for fever before pulling his backpack off and setting it by the desk. The small desk light was just bright enough to let him read without waking Sam.

His first stop was his journal. He hadn’t used it much, but he carried it everywhere. He flipped through it for the information his father left him. He wasn’t really expecting to find anything, but he had to check. He scribbled a few notes onto a page, listing the characteristics Cassie had told him about, then pulling a small stack of books out of the desk drawer.

One of the books their father had given Sam was a dictionary of symbols. Dean shoved it into his backpack to take to Cassie the next day. His journal followed it. He yawned and turned off the light, stripping on his way to the bed. It may have been cold, but he’d gotten to not like pajamas since Janet had bought him those girly things with horses on them.

 

The George who came home the next night was not the man Dean was used to. He was hardly ever around much anymore and Dean had a sneaking suspicion he was cheating on Janet, but this was different. He was surly and unpleasant, disappearing into his study shortly after he came home and not emerging until after all of them were in bed.

He heard him fighting with Janet near midnight…or rather, heard Janet yelling at George. From what he could tell, George just went to sleep. Dean sighed and rolled over to watch Sam sleep, figuring it was good that one of them managed.

Three days later it was Saturday, and Dean braved the unplowed streets to go to Cassie’s, the symbol book and a few others from the library in his bag. He also packed the gun, just in case, and he shoved a bottle of holy water into his back pocket.. Mr. Darrens was leaving as Dean got there. He waved hello and backed out of the driveway.

Cassie met him at the door. “Where’s he going?” Dean asked.

“Work…as usual. He’d rather be anywhere than here with me. I remind him of my mother.”

Dean didn’t have anything to say to that, so he just followed her inside. “Okay, I think I may have worked this out. Those symbols you pointed out to me can be used to trap a paralim.”

“A what?”

Dean pulled books out and set them on the coffee table. “It’s a sort of guardian spirit.” He didn’t want to say demon, but essentially that’s what it was. A lower level demon used by a higher level one to protect something of value.

“This thing doesn’t feel very much like its guarding me.”

“No, it doesn’t.” Dean opened one of the texts he’d found at the public library. “According to this text, paralims are used to guard a specific thing, or person.” Dean smiled up at her. “I’m guessing the man who lived here before you conjured it and forgot to release it when he left.”

Cassie crossed her arms like she was cold. “You do know this is totally insane, right?”

Dean shrugged. He hadn’t really thought that much about it. “Yeah, I guess it is.” He put the book down and looked at her. “I could just let it be, if you think it’s too crazy.”

There was panic in her eyes. “How do we get rid of it?”

Dean looked up at her, noticing for the first time that for a change, her blonde hair was down around her face instead of pulled up in a pony tail, and despite the chill, she was wearing a skirt. His face flushed. “Um…we have to release it.”

“And how do we do that?”

Dean didn’t answer right away. The truth was, he wasn’t sure. He was in over his head. This was heavy magic. All the material he could find on the paralim indicated that it was a demon used to protect very special and very specific tools, things a major demon wanted kept secret and safe. They were said to be gifted with supernatural sight and the ability to keep psychics and seers from seeing them and what they protected.

He blew out a deep breath and squatted. “Okay. This could be complicated.”

He was stalling. He stood up and ran his hand through his hair. He was about to say something when he felt it, the presence. Cassie stiffened and he knew she felt it too. “Dean?”

He nodded and reached for his journal, but it flew across the table. He moved around to grab for it and felt something like a hand on his back. It’s fingers closed around his shirt and lifted him from the floor, tossing him into the wall. Cassie screamed as Dean hit the floor.

“That wasn’t nice.” He threw himself at the journal, his hands closing around the book. “I can try something, but I don’t know if it will work.”

“Why?” She was scared, but then again, so was he.

“It’s a simple exorcism, not meant for this kind of thing.” He opened the page to the basic exorcism his father had transcribed. “My Latin sucks.”

He took a deep breath and started reading, even as the paralim grabbed him again. It tossed him across the floor, but he kept a hold of the journal and continued reading. The third time his head connected with the wall, he was beginning to get woozy, but the room felt different too.

Dean climbed to his feet and started over, speaking as forcefully as he could. Cassie grabbed his hand and he felt a rush of something go through him. The room screamed…as if the walls themselves were being ripped and Dean had to push the last of the words out. As he finished, everything stilled, then a black, inky smoke seemed to pour up out of the ground at their feet, gathering in the air.

Dean’s hand shot to his back pocket and pulled out the bottle of holy water, scattering it in the air around them. Something like laughter rumbled through the room and the smoke gathered, then shot straight at Dean, he backpedaled until he was against the wall, and it slammed into him, through his stomach and out his back, leaving him heaving and breathless.

For a long time they both just stood, looking at each other. Then Dean laughed. “That was…”

He didn’t finish as he was suddenly overwhelmed with Cassie in his arms, crying in relief. “Is it really gone?”

Dean held her for a minute, then patted her back. “Yeah, I think so.”

“I don’t know how I’ll ever thank you.”

Dean was starting to get an inkling, but he slipped out of her embrace, flushed bright red and shook his head. “Help me get an A in science and we’ll call it even.”

He licked his lips and put some distance between them. “I…should go. I…promised Sam I’d take him sledding.”

 

Sam was waiting for him when he got home and he was pretty impatient. “We’ve got 3 hours before dinner Sam. Just let me put my stuff away, okay?” Dean flew up the stairs, closing the door before pulling the gun from his back and dropping it bag in its hiding place so he wouldn’t forget, then grabbed his scarf and gloves and headed back downstairs. Jenny and Janet emerged from the kitchen as he hit the bottom. “I’m going to take Sammy sledding, you want to come Jenny?”

“Is it okay, Mom?” Janet nodded.

“Yes, be back before dark.” Dean watched as Jenny dressed for the snow and Janet leaned against the wall watching her. Something wasn’t right. She looked tired, sad. She felt his gaze and looked at him, offering a weak smile. “You kids have fun.”

Dean nodded and herded the two younger kids out the door, with a quick stop in the garage for the sleds and then they were off down the street to the big hill that became the quiet suburbs entertainment in the winter months.

That night the house was quiet, no arguing. Dean crawled into bed exhausted from the day’s exertion, from exorcising his first demon, to hauling Sam and Jenny up the hill and home. He knew this was one night he wouldn’t have trouble sleeping.

At least not until the nightmares started. At first it was Cassie, her blond hair caked in blood, her blue eyes cold and opaque, her voice calling out his name. Then it was Jenny, screaming…endless screaming and Sam’s face all bruised, broken. Then it was Janet, her face bloody, bruises circling her neck as if someone had choked her, laying on the kitchen floor looking up at him. He woke in a cold sweat somewhere close to dawn, yelling.

The room was cold. Sam stirred, but didn’t wake up. Dean pulled on his robe and grabbed his journal and headed down to the kitchen. He made a cup of tea and sat down at the table to write about the demon, and the nightmares.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Janet’s voice came from the door way.

Dean looked up. “Nightmares.”

She nodded and gestured at the journal. “Writing about them?”

Dean shrugged and closed the book. “Something my father does.” He lifted his cup. “There’s more water, if you want some tea.”

She smiled and made her way to the cupboard. “Does it help? The writing?”

“I don’t know. I don’t generally get nightmares, so I’ll have to see.”

“I used to get really nasty nightmares when I was your age.” She sat across from him and sipped at her tea. ”Did Sam tell you he got a part in the play?”

Dean looked up surprised. “No, when?”

She shook her head, dismissing the importance. “Friday. He found out Friday. You were at the library.”

“I feel so bad. I’ve been so caught up in this project with Cassie. I really haven’t spent much time with him this week.”

“He adores you.”

Dean blushed. “I’m his big brother, what’s not to love?”

“I’ve never seen that kind of devotion…not to family…” Her voice trailed off and her finger traced the top of her mug. “Did I ever tell you I was a foster kid?”

Dean breathed softly and shook his head. “No.”

“Back then it was a real stigma. My mother died when I was still a baby. My father tried…for years, but…loosing my mother really shook him up. He went a little crazy.”

Dean didn’t say anything, but he let his hand snake across the table to touch hers. “He left me on the steps of an orphanage when I was 6.”

Dean could see the tears in her eyes that she fought back. He let his thumb caress over her index finger and waited. “He told me I would be better off, told me that he couldn’t be the father I needed. And then he just walked away. I never saw him again.”

Dean waited, watching a single tear fall before she inhaled deeply. “Well, look at how well you turned out.” Dean said. “You’re a wonderful mother to Jenny. And look at how you’ve turned me around. I can cook and everything.” She smiled despite herself. “I do homework, I baby sit bratty little brothers, and rescue damsels in distress…all because of you.”

She laughed. “I doubt its all to do with me Dean. But thank you. It’s nice to know I’m doing something right.”

Dean sighed, then gathered his mug and journal. “I’m going to see if I can get a little more sleep.” He padded out of the kitchen, suddenly exhausted. He was beginning to think there were too damn many women in his life.


End file.
